Budding photographer

Oh if only I were talking about myself.  I wish I could use photographer and my name in a sentence together. The best I can hope for is the label of picture taker.

I am talking of my daughter. Everyday she begs me to use my camera. She takes five hundred pictures of my dirty house and then hands the camera back to me proudly. If she keeps it up, she may actually be good by the time she is grown. The sheer quantity of pictures has got to lead to some good shots.

Let me take you on a tour of my house courtesy of Princess Blondie.

Armoire. This is where they watch cartoons on PBS while I sleep in. It's summer, I'm allowed to sleep in.

Our new flower garden. I had to give away the Monks Hood to the neighbor because it is really, really poisonous and it made Sonny Boy really, really nervous to know that we had a poisonous plant in the garden. (Sorry Mom! I know our neighbor will take very good care of it.)

My truck. Other moms get minivans. I got a truck with flames. It makes me happier than it should.

The other side our flower garden and the muddy birdbath courtesy of Sonny Boy. He doesn't seem to understand that the birds were prefer water instead of mud.

The front porch. 

 

The front of our house.

Our driveway.

Our culdesac.

Our grass. Yay! No more dirt pit!

A photo shoot would not be complete without a self portrait.

Flower pot number one.

Flower pot number two. And a carpet rake. It came with the house. The kids confiscated it from the pile destined for the Salvation Army. Now it lives outside. Who rakes their carpet anyway? I don't even vacuum mine. It's overrated.

My walkway! I gave up on flagstone and we settled with brick. I LOVE it. Much less dirt and gravel in my house now.

She took a picture of every single stair to the upstairs. 

I'm going to show you every single one. 

Just kidding. I wouldn't do that to you. 

When she made it upstairs she took a picture of my laundry waiting to be folded. It is now three days later and I still have half a pile there. My kids have to fish for clean underwear from the pile. Just being honest here.

Stinky Beagle in her seat of honor on my couch. She spends a great deal of her time here. There were many more pictures of my dog on the couch. I thought one covered it.

She also takes a picture of her hand every time. I like to think she is playing with depth of field. I may be wrong. She might just like her hand. 

My cream colored walls. Every wall in my house is this color except for the kids rooms. Someday I will paint. I need to buy a new rug first. It all hinges on the rug. I need help convincing DH of this fact. 

This is the part where I am wondering where the picture of Sonny Boy's bottom is. I think he was in time-out. If he were around there would have been a picture of his bottom, his tongue, and the toilet. 

There always is.